The Clockmaker's Doll(Wilfred) The Clockmakers Doll
Written by: Karl Schuchardt


My story begins in a small village nestled amongst the trees in a valley; it was so small that it didn't even have a name. Growing up in such a place, amongst the cobblestone streets and gas lit lamps, gave me quite a wonderful childhood, and an experience that I will never forget.

It all started one day when a Clockmaker came to our village, wishing to retire from the hustle and bustle of the big city. He came by this place in his youth with his wife, who was taken by the wondrous beauty of our village and vowed one-day she would live there. To have a small cottage built upon the valley wall overlooking the village in all its splendor and glory. Well, that time had finally come and the villagers all came to help with the construction of their new home. Upon its completion, the Clockmaker and his wife were amazed at the beauty they saw looking down into the valley, especially at night time; it was absolutely breathtaking.

So the Clockmaker, to repay the villagers for their help, built for them a great clock which stood in the middle of the square. Now this clock wasn't as grand as the many clocks around the world that you might see, though it was the tallest building within the village, and could be seen from the Clockmakers home.

Now what made it more impressive than all the other clocks of its time was the sound of its chime. So beautiful was its sound that all were astonished every time it rang, for it was as if the angels themselves came down from the heavens to sing their song, and praise to the townspeople.

And so life was good amongst the village, for every day the Clockmaker would make his way down the small dirt path that lead from his home to the village, where he would spend hours tinkering with the great clock. For in all his life’s work this would seem to be his masterpiece, something he treasured more than life itself. And I remember how we would wait for its chime to ring, to start class in our tiny one room school, and how it would lull us to sleep at night. Yes, these were the best times of my youth, and how wonderful life was for all. These are the times you must treasure most, for they pass by so quickly.

Then one day upon the first day of spring, after a particularly harsh winter, the Clockmakers wife came ill and died. The Clockmaker was distraught by this unexpected turn of events, and the villagers all gathered for the funeral that took place, and buried her just outside the cottage the way she would have wanted it. From that point on the Clockmaker was never the same, he no longer came down the small dirt path that lead to the village, there was no longer any reason, or so the Clockmaker told them. He told them that the great clock was built to last years, and would be just fine without his help. So he stayed locked away in his small cottage, never talking to anyone, and no one knew what he was doing, and the villagers wondered if he would ever be the same again.

Two years had passed since that time, when a new tragedy struck our small village, for it happened late at night just before the stroke of midnight. How I know this was that the great clock, which stood in the square, stopped! Just before it would play its full song, and remained frozen exactly seconds before midnight. But it would not be until the morn that the villagers would realize this, and when they knew, they made their way to the cottage to consult the Clockmaker, and that was when they would realize the true tragedy that befell them. For when they arrived at his home, they found that the Clockmaker had died, and that the great clock that's chime was so wonderful to hear, would be heard no more.

It was a sad day for the village, and things would never again be the same, since no one knew how to fix the clock, so for the many years to pass it would remain frozen, it's hands never moving. And the villagers buried the Clockmaker next to his wife and boarded up the cottage, and eventually, slowly, life would return back to normal, or at least as best it could.

Many years of my life have passed since that moment. It wasn't till I was eighteen that my life would change, it started as I was wandering upon the outskirts of the village, when I found myself staring at the small dirt path that lead to the Clockmakers home. My mind wandered back to my youth, to when the great clock would chime its amazing song. I tried to remember the tune, but to no avail for the years had taken it away, and I wondered if I would ever hear that melodious sound again.

It seemed that without even realizing what was going on, I inadvertently stumbled along the path. Thick with growth of weeds and grass, it was amazing that I found my way to the small cottage at all.
When I arrived it was just as I remembered it, from the time of that tragic day when we realized he no longer was with us. Growth covered the grave sights in which they were buried. I stooped down and brushed away the leaves, and pulled out the weeds that grew over their graves as a sign of respect. Then made my way to the cottage where I pulled off the boards that blocked the door, and made my way inside.

I looked around, there were clocks lining the walls all around me, probably from the Clockmaker, and was amazed at some of the detail that the clocks had, from cuckoo clocks to a grandfather clock that stood in the corner, all seemed rather quite exquisite. All remained silent, their hands unmoving, I was amazed that no one had come here to steal them, and that the villagers left this place untouched.

In the back room was a worktable that was cluttered with clock parts, gears and springs, all covered in a thick layer of dust. As I brushed off one of the gears, I began to realize that the sun was beginning to set, and did not consider how I was going to get back to the village, after all I didn't even bring a lamp to light my way. I cursed myself for coming here so ill prepared; but then again, I didn't even know why I did. Quickly I went to check out the last room in the house, which was his bedroom, and as the darkness began to creep in, losing the light of day, I knew I had to hurry if I wanted to get at least halfway home before the night settled in. Luckily, within the bedroom I found a candle upon the nightstand, breathed a slight sigh of relief, for at least it would illuminate the dank cottage. Looking around it seemed there was nothing more to see, so I decided to leave and made my way to the door, the candle lighting my way, casting eerie shadows from the many clocks upon the wall. And then as I came to the door I tripped. Kneeling down to examine the floor to see what I tripped over, that was when I found what appeared to be a hatch in the floor, and then realized that the cottage also had a cellar. Well, my curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to make my way down the stairs.

Again the candle lit my way, casting shadows which made the cellar, perhaps the most creepy of all the rooms. As I looked around there didn't seem to be much to see. It was almost completely empty, or at least that is what I thought till I looked in the corner, and there lying within the darkness was what appeared to be something that resembled a coffin. It was black, and the cover lay slightly open. My heart skipped a beat as I approached, wondering who or what might lie inside.

When I looked inside I could not believe what I saw. At first I thought it was a girl, but I knew everyone in the village and this was no one that I knew. But upon further examination I realized that it wasn't a girl, but more like a life sized doll. Her skin was white, like that of pure snow; her eyes were closed, her face expressionless, frozen. She wore a black dress with a white blouse, stockings, and black shoes. She seemed rather quite cute and peaceful. As I touched her face, it almost seemed to feel like real skin, yet was cold to the touch. Within her hand, she grasped a key, which at first I had no idea where it went to and wondered if it was to wind her up, but where? I examined her carefully, and when I reached to bring her head up to get a better look at her face, that was when I noticed it. A small hole in the back of her neck just big enough to insert the key that moments ago was clasped in her hands. I placed the key into her neck and turned, once, twice, as many times as I dared, for I did not wish to over wind her. Then stepped back to see what would happen next.

Her eyes opened, and then she sat up, I was startled when she looked right at me with piercing blue eyes, and arose from the box. What was her purpose, why was she created? At the time I thought she was nothing more than a toy, but found out that I was completely wrong, for then she approached me. My heart pounded in my chest as she stood staring at me, her face expressionless, her lips unable to speak. I would not realize this at the time, but this would be a day that I would never forget, the day that my life changed forever. And as I spent more time with her, sneaking away from the village whenever I could, I found that I grew to love her, but I didn't just love her, I adored her! She was magnificent, her movements so graceful and elegant, and though her face frozen, like that of the great clock in the square, I knew what she was thinking, and how she felt, just by the way she moved. In time my love grew beyond anything I had ever known, for when I would go home, I would long for her. Feeling the love well up inside me, pounding within my chest, sometimes it felt like it would explode, casting my emotions outward, spreading my love upon the world.

I know what many of you might be thinking as you hear this tale, How could someone love something, that by all means was nothing more than gears and springs, just a machine by some standards. But to me she was alive; to me she was special, important, more important than anything in my life. For she was my clockwork angel, sent from the heavens to relieve me from my loneliness, and misery.
For you see as time passed, I grew weary of life in such a small place, in fact just before this happened I contemplated leaving the village, to start a new life somewhere else. But now it seemed that my life had purpose.

Those many nights I spent with her were the greatest times of my life. The long walks we would take through the Forest, looking down into the valley at the village below. Seeing the great clock within the square, sitting there motionless, never moving, never again to chime it's song, and how I wished she could have heard it, that beautiful melody that enchanted our village so.

And we would dance. Oh! How she loved to dance, as we moved gracefully across the floor, the cottage would transform itself into a grand ballroom, the phonograph player became our orchestra. Sometimes, we would just sit amongst the fire telling her my troubles and woes, and miraculously she would make them disappear as I held her in my arms, which comforted me so. And there was so much I wanted to share with her, all my hopes, and dreams, my thoughts and desires.

Yet there was so little that I knew about her? And being unable to speak, those questions would remain unanswered. Such as why did the Clockmaker build her, what was her true purpose, or what happens to her when she's wound down, lying silent and unmoving waiting for my return. Did she just not exist at that moment, or was she capable of having dreams, these were the many things I would ponder, when I would leave the cottage. And slowly meander down the small dirt path back to the village.

Also, as strange as it may sound, I could feel her emotions, and in some way was attached to her by a bond that no one could understand. Then again, how could a machine even feel, or love for that matter, but for some reason she could. I could sense when she was happy, or sad, or when she missed me, for when I would wind her up after being gone many nights, unable to slip away from the village, she seemed to know the time that had passed. Though she could not say it, I knew, somehow I knew. Strange as our relationship was, she breathed life back into my soul, for I never knew what true love was until I met her, and was so glad that I came here that one fateful night.

But all good things must come to an end, right? Since nothing lasts forever, and neither would my clockwork angel. I still remember that dreadful night, for you see as time went on she would need to be wound up more, and more. Sometimes, two or even three times a night. Now at first I thought she was just getting broken in, that this was natural, but over time I knew that was not true.

It happened when we were dancing, she lumbered along, slowing down with every step, her weight pressing down upon me as I tried so desperately to hold her up. I went to grab the key to once again wind her, but it was too late, for then I heard a sound, a most dreadful sound. I didn't know what it was, might have been a spring that had sprung, or perhaps a gear came loose, I did not know.
She fell to the ground, and I felt my heart being ripped from my body, never had I felt such pain, it cuts deep like a knife. Crying out, unable to control my tears, I've never known such anguish, it felt like my whole chest was about to cave in.

I grabbed the key and brought it towards her, but she only pushed it away, and that was when I realized that my clockwork angel, was dying. I only had moments before she was gone, and yet I never told her how much I loved her, how she was the greatest thing to come into my life. And I knew then that I would have to tell her, so I reached deep inside myself to find the words, and said "I love you," as tears were streaming down my face.
And though she was incapable of speech, her face frozen, unable to express the feelings she had for me, I still heard her words run through my mind, "I love you too," and somehow, deep inside, I felt that she was smiling. That our time spent together meant as much to her, as it did to me.

Then a sound louder than the one before, which sounded like a clunk, which came from deep inside her, and then she was gone. Never in my entire life would I ever love someone as much as I loved her, and never would I suffer such agony from her loss. For the feelings of sadness were so great that I wished I had a knife to plunge into me, ending my life, for I felt at that moment I could not go on. Yet I knew that I must, she would want me to continue on, but I wondered how?
How could I go on, to even love again, when you have touched something so pure, so innocent. Perhaps in time I may find someone to love, but never would she replace my clockwork angel. And though I wept, heart aching deep inside my chest, exhausted from crying, and screaming that life was so unfair, to deliver to me an angel, only to have it taken away, to never know of its pleasures again. I will never forget those magical nights we spent together, and what she truly meant to me.

I buried her that night, right next to the Clockmaker, and then began to make a gravestone. Though it wasn't as grand a gravestone as the Clockmaker, and his wife's, but it was the best I could do. Nothing more than two sticks tied together to form a cross. Then I started to carve her epitaph on a piece of wood, which was to hang upon her grave.

Then suddenly I heard a sound, it seemed to come from the village.
It was a wondrous sound, one that I hadn't heard in ages, one that sounded so familiar, it made me think of the many times in my youth I had heard its melodious song. A tear formed in my eye, for the great clock; that lay dormant for so long, had for some strange miracle, sprung back to life, its song spread through the valley, and soon would awaken the villagers. That was when I knew that though she was gone, she would live on in my memories, as well as the great clock in the square. And with a heavy heart, and a tear in my eye, I hung her epitaph upon her grave that simply read.
"Here lies the Clockmakers Doll"

The
End

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